


Human

by csquared225



Series: Codas to Agents of SHIELD [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hickies, M/M, Oral Sex, Pheels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csquared225/pseuds/csquared225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m still your favorite asset though, right? Right?”</p><p>“Clint. You’re not my asset anymore.”</p><p>“......”</p><p>A sigh.</p><p>“Yes, Clint. You’re still my favorite asset.”</p><p>“Woohoo!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, read the warnings. Some people don’t like the idea of Phil being an LMD, it’s discussed a bit here so avoid if that’s something you don’t want to hear about.

Phil made it a point to debrief Clint on his latest mission, classified or not. His team had been out on more missions lately, and they didn’t have nearly enough time together, and it was a familiar routine. But this time was different. When he explained about Akela, Clint tensed. He grinned and joked, “I’m still your favorite asset though, right? Right?”

 

“Clint. You’re not my asset anymore.”

 

“.....”

 

A sigh.

 

“Yes, Clint. You’re still my favorite asset.”

 

“Woohoo!”

 

He knew it was his way of coping. He’d been just as gung-ho set on bringing Clint back in when he had supposedly betrayed SHIELD: “Barton is compromised.” Another reason he’d been willing to go up against a god with an experimental weapon, and Clint knew it. And he didn’t want to talk about it.

 

So he turned the conversation on himself. Explained about Akela’s enhancements, and his own experiences in how different he felt. Her suspicious gaze, and his own worries.

 

“Something is wrong with me, Clint. She knew it, and whatever she saw…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then jerked his hand away. “Who knows if this is even...me? Stark made the LMDs, maybe--”

 

“Phil.”

 

“Clint. ...You don’t know anything, do you?” Phil couldn’t believe he was asking this of his lover, the one he trusted most in the world, but he knew the lengths he would go to protect him, keep him safe, even if that meant breaking one of their fundamental rules and lying to him. He looked into Clint’s eyes. The man could lie with the best of them, but he could see past it (at least he hoped he could).

 

Nothing but worry, a bit of hurt from the supposed distrust, love, and cogs working in his head to try and figure this out. His shoulders relaxed, and he rested his forehead against his.

 

“I’m sorry. I just...I know if it was something bad, you’d want to protect me,” he apologized softly. “I trust you, Clint, I do. More than anyone else in the world.”

 

The archer looked to be forgiving him already, understanding dawning in his blue eyes. He smiled a little sadly.

 

“You’re not wrong. But I swear on...on your life, Phil, I don’t know anything. I promise.”

 

Nowadays, and always, there was nothing more precious to Clint. Phil believed him, and let the familiar warmth of that reminder wash over him. That, at least, hadn’t changed. Or it was a bunch of nuts and bolts and electrical waves making him feel that way. He came back to himself when Clint lightly slapped at his cheek. “Hey, I see you getting lost in there. Even if you are...not human anymore.”

 

And putting it so bluntly made Phil jerk in his hold, and he saw Clint wince.

 

“Sorry. Look. Just, whatever this is? You’re still you in there. The packaging doesn’t matter to me. It’s damn good looking packaging,” Clint winked, less playfulness in it than usual, but a hint of genuine mirth that let him know he was recovering from the shock of the idea, “but in the end what’s in your soul, or whatever. That’s what I love.”

 

“Hm,” Phil raised his eyebrows, watching as Clint steadily reddened. “How eloquent of you, Clint. I’m flattered.”

 

“Shaddup. So. I think that at this point, we can assume that you’re changed in some way. If it’s robot or something else, we’ll figure it out. Stark is the one who came up with the LMDs, we can ask--” ‘Interrogate,’ Phil assumed. “--him about it.”

 

He sighed.

 

“Okay. Though I wish I had the same amount of patience you have from being a sniper.” Clint snorted. “That’s pretty much the only time I have patience and you know it, Phil.” Okay. He conceded that point. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Clint’s expression turn mischievous.

 

“We should see if everything is in working order, right?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I should do a thorough look-see. Check every. Single. Inch of you. With my eyes...” He dragged his gaze down his still suited body, “Mouth…” He pressed a kiss to his jaw. “And hands…” He stroked over his ribs, making Phil shudder. “You know, engage all my senses. Be thorough about it.”

 

“Mngh,” said Phil. Talk about ineloquent. Clint was so good at reducing him to mush like this, tongue tripping over itself and nerves misfiring. Before he knew it, he found himself stripped down and laid out on the bed as Clint started at his forehead, fingers tracing each line that Phil often detested; his life had lead him to early wrinkles and a receding hairline that Clint paid special attention to, his way of saying he didn’t care about Phil’s early balding. For some reason he still found him sexy.

 

‘If I am an LMD, they could have at least given me some more hair,’ Phil spared one coherent thought for that rather crabbily. He was interrupted as Clint kissed his cheeks, his nose, his lips, chin, and jaw, fingers following in suit. Dextrous fingers that were the most talented part of Clint, even more than his mouth, something that Phil would often snark about on his ability to talk and talk and talk.

 

His neck and Adam’s Apple were next, and Clint paid special attention to the two hickies he’d left earlier that week, grinning against his skin as Phil shuddered at the memories. His talented hands kneaded his shoulders, working out the tension there. If he was an LMD, another thing Phil had to complain about were the knots he still got in his muscles.

 

His collarbone and sternum were kissed and licked, then scraped over with teeth, nipples receiving the same treatment, though those Clint pinched and rolled in his fingers and scraped with his nails. Phil could already feel himself leaking against his belly. He groaned as Clint laved at his navel and ribs and then neatly avoided his erection and kneaded his thighs, murmuring approval at the muscles he found there. He nearly bit down on his tongue when Clint bit hard into his left thigh and sucked a mark there.

 

He was tickled in the back of his knees, nuzzled at his kneecaps, and his fingers massaged his calves. The heels of his feet were rubbed--Clint gave a mean foot rub--and he twitched in surprise when the archer pulled a new move and licked between the webbing of his toes.

 

“Clint,” he found himself finally begging, a thin sheen of precome now coating his belly. “Please.”

 

Clint simply smiled at him and finally sucked down the head of his cock, like it was a lollipop in his favorite flavor, cherry. He licked around the head and swiped away the precome with his tongue. He dipped the tip into the slit and quickly pulled it out, making Phil bite back a shout.

 

He was going to beg again as he was teased more, when Clint licked up the side of his shaft to the top, then swallowed him down all the way, nose brushing the curly hairs at the base. He wheezed and clenched his hands in the bedspread, sensing that this wasn’t a time to guide Clint. His lover wanted to worship him and show him something, and he was going to let him.

 

It was a hot, wet and sucking vacuum that Clint created; this was something he prided himself on and often teased Phil and irked the others with when he had popsicles, bananas, anything he could slide his mouth around. It made Phil cross his legs in public, Tony cat-call, Steve blush, Thor hoot at, Bruce sigh at, and Natasha roll her eyes amusedly.

 

Sitwell and Woo were far too used to it, Maria and Fury would find something equally phallus shaped and break it in half (Maria’s pencils were abused too often). That usually stopped Clint in his path.

 

He turned his mind back to the task at hand, and found his balls already drawing up. He gasped out Clint’s name in warning, and with one last powerful suck, he flooded Clint’s mouth. The archer swallowed him down, then deftly cleaned him up with little kitten licks.

 

“Clint,” he changed his tone, and his lover immediately slid up his body and kissed him, sharing the taste as he always did after this. He let him lead the kiss, and smiled when his mouth was thoroughly mapped out, teeth licked and tongue sucked on. “Thank you,” he told him gratefully when they parted. “That helped.”

 

“I live to serve, sir.” Clint’s cocky grin faded. “We’re in this together, Phil. And...you’re human enough for me. If that counts for anything.” Phil tucked him close, and closed his eyes.

 

“That’s more than enough.”

 

**The End**


End file.
